On the green-shaded athletic field, heavy rain crashed down in torrents.
Raindrops burst and scattered like shattered vases, while the north wind swept through as if patrolling the earth. One by one, the impeccably ordered military training formations marched past the grandstand.
That streak of deep blue drew no one's attention.
Plop.
Plop.
Andrew Han stepped through the rain blossoms, his gaze distant and serene.
Master was right—
Once you enter the Martial Arts World, you need only follow your inner belief and virtue.
No regulation should ever be imposed upon oneself.
No chain can ever bind your heart.
Andrew Han’s philosophy differs slightly from Miles Ning’s. He believes that such freedom must be rooted in respect for others and adherence to principle.
Andrew Han stepped through the splashing water, walking toward the tent with an air of calm. There was no bravado in his heart, nor any regret—only a transcendent detachment from worldly concerns.
In this life, moving forward, why continue to worship the rules of rank and status?
Splash.
He planted his right foot on the rubber track, a faint layer of Condensed Mist Internal Power spreading around his feet, dispersing the water. He stood like a towering pillar of light, unmoved by any external force.
Meanwhile, the seventeenth formation also began to march out.
Andrew Han’s lips curled into a faint smile as he held the deep-blue umbrella, silently following at Monica Zhang’s rear left. The edge of the umbrella tilted backward, neither blocking the view nor letting in the rain.
“Han—Andrew Han.”
Monica Zhang marched in step, but couldn’t help her thoughts from running wild.
So many people are watching… and the school leaders are here too… Will Andrew Han be punished? For something this serious, he’ll probably get a demerit or even expelled… Maybe I shouldn’t go to school either.
She kept her step, but couldn’t help her mind from wandering.
A low, clear voice pierced the air and reached her ears: “Girl, focus on your marching.”
Splash.
Splash.
The formation’s steps were perfectly synchronized, each leg lifting and falling in unison.
Monica Zhang wanted to laugh, but also wanted to cry. Her eyes reddened and her pale cheeks flushed. That voice struck her heart like a sudden thunderbolt, filling her frail body with unending strength.
Meanwhile.
Andrew Han spoke softly, his expression unchanged: “You have your decision, and I respect your choice to join military training… But I also have my own decision.”
His words lingered in the air, painting a scene of quiet tranquility.
Heavy rain poured down, and the north wind blew fiercely.